Writer's Block
by demonchilde
Summary: Fourth Chapter now up...
1. Default Chapter Title

Hello there my faithful readers. J No, it's not the eigth part of my story; this is actually a fanfic that I wrote based on the SISF (self-insertion smut fics) that the Skewed Believers have been posting on their webpage. Seeing them, I was like, "Hey, if the SB'ers can write one, then why can't a SABER?" So here is my first go at it. For you people lookin' for smut though, there's none in here (sorry.)

Anyways, y'all know the deal; Profiler and the kick-ass characters from that show are owned by NBC / Court TV and Saunder/Moses Productions. Disturbed owns their song called 'Down With the Sickness'.

Writer's Block

"Goddamn it," I mutter, crumpling up another piece of paper and aiming it at the trash can. Perfect shot. "Two points, and the crowd goes wild," I smile faintly before returning to my story in progress.

--------------------

The Fragile Pt.8

With my green eyes hidden behind the Ray-Bans I decided to pick up before I left for Atlanta, I watch the road pass by.

My driver, Agent Michael Miller, is a little afraid of me. I have that effect on most people when they realize just who or what I am.

---------------------

"C'mon, Dana…what would you do…" I tap my pen in frustration against the notebook, trying to think of a way I could bring in one of my own characters into the Profiler universe without making her out to be totally stupid. Hoping that maybe some music would help, I turn on my CD player and listen to Disturbed.

"Drowning deep in a sea of longing

Broken your servant I kneel

(Will you give in to me)

It seems what's left of my human side is slowly changing in me

(Will you give in to me)

Looking at my own reflection

When suddenly it changes 

Violently it changes

No, there is no turning back now

You've woken up the demon in me…"

"Good song," A voice suddenly states from my bedroom door. I can smell the faint aroma of cigarette smoke.

"You think so, huh Jack?" I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Yes I do…It will fit your character most nicely, don't you think? You're making her out to be some kind of a freak of nature that goes after people like me, right?"

"Well ya, but…what the fuck are you doing here?" Jack laughs softly.

"I seem to be hearing that a lot recently."

"You're not like gonna kill me or something, right? Because that would really suck…I have an exam in my Drugs and Behavior class tomorrow that I really need to pass."

"I thought you were going into Criminology."

"Well I am but I needed a class to take during the winter, and why are you trying to change the subject?" He laughs softly again.

"No, Icequeen, I'm not here to kill you. Just to help you out with that writer's block you appear to be having." I don't even bother asking him how he knew one of my handles.

"Well I've read how you've 'helped' the Skewed Believers there, pal," I reply sarcastically. "That kind of help I don't need, thank you very much."

"Why not?" He leans up against my bedroom wall and lights up another cigarette, and I can faintly make out the scent of Rose Oil.

"Because one, I ain't interested. Two, your almost old enough to be my frigging dad, and three, I'm a SABER. I find the idea of you and Sam together absolutely revolting, when everyone knows she should be together with Bailey."

"I can't believe you just said that," Jack says, his feelings apparently hurt.

"What can I say? Robin and the rest are your faithful. You don't need me."

"But it has been noted in some certain message boards that you have some of the makings of a Skewed Believer, Icequeen. Do you deny that?"

"What is this, a trial?" Jack only smiled, and I answered his question. "No, counselor," I reply, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "I do not recall ever denying the fact that I have a fairly wide mean streak inside of me. Now can I get off the stand and continue writing my story?"

"I suppose so."

"Thank you." I lower my hand to the page and begin to write once more.

--------------------

__

~ A freak ~ A voice laughs in my head. _~ Just like the KoRn song, you're a Freak on a Leash! ~_

~ Shut up ~ I think back, and the voice disappears. With a sigh, I wish for the millionth time that my partner had been able to join me. But he had his divorce to go through, and that was far more important.

_~ You should have Passed Judgement on her, Dana, ~_ The voice whispers again, and I shiver slightly. _~ You know she deserves it ~_

~ Shut up or I'll take Jack out without your help ~ I snarl silently in the darkest corners of my mind.

--------------------

"Your character is going to catch me?" Jack says, his eyebrows lifted. "Dana's gonna get me?"

"I haven't decided yet," I reply wearily. "Right now I'm just trying to merge my own version of Profiler with the real version of Profiler without making me look like a total fucking idiot."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," He whispers, and my hair stands up on the back of my head as I turn to stare into his glittering icy blue eyes.

"Sorry Jack, but as I told you, I'm unaffected by your serial-killer magnetism. Now why don't you shoo and go bug some of the Believers or something, or go say hi to Robin. She just posted a new story on Fanfiction.net, and I'm sure she'll love to hear from you again." Calmly, I shove him out my bedroom door, with him protesting all the way. "Oh yeah, thanks for your help Jack. Maybe I'll be able to continue my story now after all." 

Snorting loudly, I open my eyes and glance at my watch. 6:00 PM is what it says, and I find myself pondering what a weird dream I just had when I open up my door, and look down onto the hallway floor. My face pales as I slowly back into my bedroom, not being able to take my eyes off the stunning red rose left there.

"Oh…shit…"


	2. Default Chapter Title

Hey there folks! Yup, another case of Writer's block has hit me, and so, another chapter goes up. Hope you enjoy. 'Into the Void' belongs to NIN. Oh, if you don't like swearing, you better turn back now.

"Tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away

Tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away

Talking to myself all the way to the station

Pictures in my head of the final destination

All lined up (All the ones that aren't allowed to stay)

Tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away…"

Tapping my pen to the song's almost hypnotic beat, I try to come up with a workable "The Fragile Pt. 14." I can't count how many pieces of paper I've tossed in the garbage can because they weren't good enough.

Reaching over to my bookcase, I grab a bag of Strawberry and Crème Crèmesavers I had picked up at the store only a couple of hours ago. Making a mental note, I decide to tell everyone that reads this chapter that they should all buy a bag (or two) because they're delicious.

"Hmm…okay…should this be from George's P.O.V. or from Dana's?"

"Make it from mine," A voice says, the man's shadow slightly darkening the KoRn 'Issues' poster I have in my bedroom. "I'm much more interesting."

"What the fuck are you doing back here?"

"Just checking up on unfinished business," Jack replied blandly, reaching for a cigarette. Watching him, I wave my finger back and forth.

"Ah-ah-ah…you light that fuckin' thing in here, I'll lay the smackdown on your candy ass."

"Now you should know better than to threaten me with a good time," Jack said with a faint smile.

"I mean it. I got a size 11 boot with your name on it."

"Oh, very well." Jack sighed, then glanced critically around the room. "KoRn? Why do you listen to such filth? Michael Jordan's a has been, and Mulder couldn't catch a cold if someone sneezed on him."

"Ooh, now you're in my doghouse, pal," I threw the notebook down on the bed and went nose-to-nose with him. "Now you're pissing me off."

"Am I?" Jack looked slightly amused, and that just pissed me off more.

"You're Goddamn right. KoRn is pure genius. Their frontman, Jonathan Davis, is one of the best mother fucking singers out there, and they're music has been known to save depressed and abused kids from committing suicide.

Michael Jordan is God. Thou shalt not take his name in vain, or you'll get bitch-slapped."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really? What about Mulder then?" He cocked his head towards the picture of David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson that I have."

"He's a close second…a very close second."

Jack just shrugged and grabbed my notebook before I could stop him.

"Icequeen, I'm ashamed of you…you haven't written hardly anything."

"That really makes me feel bad, coming from you," I reply sarcastically, grabbing my notebook and sitting back down on my bed.

"It should. Hey, where's that rose I gave you before?"

"Gave it to Robin. I think she's building a little shrine to your 'serial-killing greatness' in her house."

Jack beamed with pride.

"You see? Now that's how I'm supposed to be treated."

"As a God? Riigghhhttt…"

"Well you and the rest of your SABER pals treat Bailey that way, don't you?"

"Oh, poor Jack…are we feeling bitter?"

"Well, it's the truth."

"Well then, why don't you tear out a couple pages of a phone book and throw darts at them Jack. That'll make you feel better."

"I know of only on thing that'll make me feel better…" Jack suggested slyly. Glaring up at him I give him my 'I'm-in-a-bitchy-mood-right-now-so-don't-fuck-with-me' look.

"You even think about it Jack, and I'll write in that you've been popping the Viagra into you like it was candy."

Jack gasped.

"You wouldn't! I don't have erectile dysfunction! You can't do that!"

"My story Jack…my rules."

"You really are a nasty woman, aren't you?"

I conceded that with a nod of my head.

"I try to be whenever possible."

"And to think I used to like you…"

"You wound me," I reply before turning my attention back to my story.

~*~*~*~*~

_Dana, you knew that sooner or later he was gonna do this. Why are you so surprised?_

**I'm not…I just…didn't expect him to mention THAT.**

_He wanted to make you angry, Dana, make you lose your focus. Did he succeed?_

**In a way he did, yes. But I'm more pissed off at Fiona right now than I am him for needling me like this.**

_As you should be._

~*~*~*~*~

"Not a bad start," Jack replied grudgingly.

"I'm so glad you approve."

" Are you always this sarcastic?"

"Do you mean to normal people or just to sociopathic serial killers? Anyways, it's yes to both."

"That's what I figured."

~*~*~*~*~

Bailey's glaring at Fiona, knowing that she's up to something. Fiona only smiles innocently and says nothing as I walk towards the sliding glass doors of the hospital.

"Going somewhere, Agent?" Fiona asks, as if I needed her permission to leave.

"Yeah...going to see Bailey's injured agent."

~*~*~*~*~

"So her and John are gonna chat."

"I want my character to interact with mostly everyone in this story to some degree."

"Hmm." Jack sat down in a chair and stared out my bedroom window. "Do you realize how long it's been since I tortured someone? I mean, really tortured someone?"

"About a year?"

"Exactly. No one's been giving me anyone to torture for the longest time." Jack sighed, and for once, I actually felt sorry for the guy.

"Well, if you really want someone to torture, I suppose that could be arranged…"

"Really? It could?"

"Yeah. Hold on." I begin to write on another piece of paper.

~*~*~*~*~

One minute, the woman was behind bars, and the next minute she was driving an old junker down a dirt and water covered tar road. Pine trees and snow were on both sides.

**Am I dreaming this? Oh well, if I am I'm not complaining. At least I'm out of that jail cell.** The woman thought to herself, but kept on driving until she pulled into the first driveway she saw.

**Whose house is this? **The woman walked up the stairs of the maroon house and opened the door.

~*~*~*~*~

I grinned as the front door below opened rather hesitantly, and Jack frowned.

"Someone's here."

I smiled.

"You said you wanted someone to torture…"

"Hello?" The woman's uncertain voice floated up the stairs, and Jack grinned.

"I'm going to enjoy this."

"I'm sure Rachel will disagree."

****

  


  



	3. Default Chapter Title

This will not be posted anywhere

Well what do you know? Here's the third part of 'Writer's block.' Hope ya'll enjoy. And no, I didn't really see THE MAN there…but I wish I had. ;)

"And in local news, all Pepsi has mysteriously been stolen out of Billy Bob's Grand Union in Burlington. So far the police have no suspects, and the case is ongoing…"

"Dirty bastards, I hope the cops shoot the fucker when they catch him," I growl to myself, turning the TV off.

Lying in my hotel bed, I begin to fall asleep listening to SlipKnot when I heard knocking on my door.

"Who's there?"

"Room service."

"I didn't order room service."

"…It's a complimentary breakfast."

"They don't serve complimentary breakfasts here."

"…Damn."

Smirking, I open the door a little bit to see Jack standing there in a maroon uniform that all employees of Holiday Inn have to wear.

"Don't tell me you killed some poor shmoe just to come up here. That really is a butt-ugly uniform, you know."

"I know," Jack sighed. "It doesn't match my eyes. And no, I didn't kill anyone. They had extras."

"Good."

"Are you going to let me in?"

"Wasn't planning on it, no."

"So you mean to tell me-"

"-That you drove all the way up here from Atlanta to bother the hell out of me, and you got denied? Yeah, that's what I'm saying."

"God damn it."

"Nice try. So, how's Rachel holding up?" Jack scowled.

"She's a fucking weakling. All talk and nothing to back herself up with."

"She broke in five minutes."

"And I didn't even break a sweat," Jack sighed, shaking his head sadly.

"Well Jack, at least you know you haven't lost your touch."

"But you don't understand!" Jack almost wailed. "I need a challenge! Torturing Rachel was like stealing Pepsi from Bill-"

"So it was YOU that stole all the Pepsi from that crappy-ass little store across the street! You bastard! No one, and I mean NO ONE, cuts off my fucking Pepsi supply! Do you know what I've been forced to pour down my throat since I've been up here? Coke! Of all things!"

"Now don't tell me your complaining."

"You stole Pepsi! God's gift to single women who write fanfiction stories!!! You're a sadist!"

Jack only smiled.

"Why thank you. That's the best compliment I've received all day."

Growling at him, I flung open the door, ready to lay the smackdown on the sarcastic serial killer when I heard a familiar voice that turned my legs to butter.

"Tea, honey, I'm only going to be out here for a few days. Yes, Last night's X-Files was good, wasn't it? Next weeks will be better…" The owner of the voice came around the corner into my sight, and there he was…David Duchovny, in the flesh.

__

OH MY GOD…. My mouth dropped open, and I gaped at the man while Jack attempted, rather futilely, to get my attention.

"Icequeen, what is wrong with you? Couldn't you pick a better man, Like myself, to gape at?"

"Sorry Jack, but when it comes down to it, you couldn't hold a candle up to the 'Damn fine-looking man in the Red Speedo.'" Rather absently, I noticed that drool was beginning to form a puddle on the floor, so I snapped my mouth shut and gazed at David admiringly as he walked up and went into the room right beside mine, but not before smiling and saying 'hello.'

Naturally, I was stunned. How was I to reply?

A medium pitched squeak managed to make its way out of my mouth before he closed the door.

Sighing, I leaned up against the wall and slid down it, a goofy smile plastered on my beet red face.

"You're pathetic. Pathetic." Jack shook his head, clearly not impressed with Mr. Duchovny's animal magnetism.

"Wow…wow…damn…" I had to start fanning my face. "That is one damn fine-looking man!!!"

Jack only sneered derisively before walking the hall.

"If you want a real man, Icequeen, you know where to call."

"Don't wait by the phone, Jack, 'cause you'll be wasting your time."

"We'll see," The 'fictional' serial killer replied before walking around the corner and disappearing from my sight. "We'll see."


	4. Default Chapter Title

Hey all! Haven't written for this story in ages, but what the hell… Profiler and Crossing Jordan don't belong to me, and the song is 'Never Get caught' by American Head Charge. 

          _"Is it possible for you to shut the fuck up-_

_          Follow me now and I will drown you_

_          Fill you full of reason_

_          No windows I'll take you_

_          To the dirty place that I love_

_          Slipping on messes _

_          You made when I hit you_

_Makes me more excitable_

_I'll never get caught_

_I'll never get caught_

_Pull it tight_

_I'll see right through it…"_

          "How can you listen to this garbage?" a familiar voice says with obvious distaste behind me.

          "Quite easily, actually…I mean, hell…you're a serial killer who listens to jazz and classical music. If I were you old boy I wouldn't begin to judge."

          He peers over my shoulder at the current story I'm working on, and I can tell by the long drawn out silence that he's not pleased by what he's reading.

          "What the fuck…this isn't even a Profiler fic!"

          "Well no shit Sherlock…God Jack, for a serial killer sometimes you never cease to amaze me with your utter lack of observation," I reply icily, continuing to write.

          "Well what is it then?"

          "A Crossing Jordan fic."

          "Crossing Jordan…don't tell me your spending all your time and energy writing that," He spat out angrily.

          "No, I'm not…just dividing my time. Besides, I think it's a good idea to expand my writing horizons anyways. Writing for different genres will help me not get bored with Profiler."

          "Well why don't you start writing a story about that dream you had a couple nights ago?"

          "You mean the one about the mental institution riot? I'm starting on it, but I just haven't gotten the logistics laid out for it yet."

          "…Am I gonna be in it?"

          I turned around to look into his icy blue eyes and grinned.

          "Would you like to be?"

          "Depends on if I get offed in the end."

          "You probably would. Besides, Sid is one of my main baddies, not you."

          "Who the hell is Sid?"

          "A very bad boy."

          "Can't you give me a better hint than that?"

          "No, because then I'd be giving it away."

          "C'mon…please?"

          "Did I just hear you correctly? One of the most feared serial killers on TV asking if he 'could please have a hint?'"

          "…You're not funny."

          "Damn…and I was trying so hard on my stand-up routine…"

          "Sarcasm doesn't become you, Icequeen."

          "I've heard that a lot lately."

          "I still think you shouldn't be working on Crossing Jordan fic. You have enough problems getting your Profiler ones finished…like…'The Fragile,' or 'Pain'…you should be getting those done first before doing something totally different."

          "Oh buzz off, Jack…I'm not the only one that posts to two or more fandoms. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were slightly jealous that I'm doing so, actually. As for 'The Fragile', I'm almost done with that one."

          "I should hope so…Christ, you've been working on that damned thing for more than a year."

          "What can you say…deadlines and I don't mix."

          "And I'm not jealous."

          "You're lying." I turn my attention back to the story.

          "Am not."

          "Are too."

          "Am not."

          "Are too…and are we gonna be doing this little back and forth thing all day or are you going to torture Rachel some more?"

          "Nah, I stopped doing that…wasn't really all that much of a challenge."

          "…A shame…"

          "Besides, when have I ever done you SABERS any favors?"

          "Well, we kill you off in various messy ways…"

          "Besides that."

          "Hmm…well…you killed Coop…even though that was a bad thing to do," I added hastily. "Sam loved him a lot."

          "That was fun," He sighed, plopping himself down on the couch. "Ah, the good old days…"

          "Before Sharon betrayed your egotistical ass?"

          "I thought she'd be easier to mold…to break," He growled flatly, clearly not liking where I was going with the conversation. "I…I guess I might have been mistaken."

          "'Might have'?" I begin to laugh. "Ooh, that's funny…"

          "Listen, I got to go. Figured I'd stop by and see if you were finally ready to join the Dark Side, but obviously you're not mature enough to realize that Sam and I belong together."

          "'Not mature enough'…Jack, when you say stuff like that, it makes it hard to believe that you aren't full of shit."

          "Yeah well…it's part of my charm," Jack laughed softly before he left as mysteriously as he came. "Until next time…"


End file.
